If you wanted to live in the New Zones, you needed a boat with a shallow bottom, a map whispered to you from a passing traveller who liked the cut of your jib (both literal and metaphorical), and the steel blue courage to run through the twin headlands guarded by those who would have it a secret, and you'd have to not catch an arrow to the neck. It would be helpful to have a hold of cider, salt and seeds, sailcloth, batteries and even a smidgeon of tobacco, because old habits die hard.

When you get there, you'll have to plead that you were worth something, or else be food for the fishes. Black soil is trade in those parts, rich and fertile, made of corpses, shit and grass alike. They didn't take crypto, or fiat, or any of the old world currencies. You had to know when to press seeds in the soil, to taste the earth and declare it wanting, and know then what to feed it with. You'll have to build a home with an axe and teach children to make rocket stoves, scale trees to sit watch across the bay, fight with pitchforks and shovels if they came hunting. If you find your way into the goblet shaped bay and were invited to stay, you will join the richest people on earth. Anything else was not worth dying for.

Five minute freewrite - check out the community for prompts!

Of course, this was inspired by our searching for a house in Tasmania today. We wanted to put in an offer on a house but someone beat us to it, which was a bit depressing. I realise these things take time and it's a bit of a hard market, but still, we have a way of getting our hopes up. There's some spectacular places there, including a gorgeous off grid place which was just a little bit far away from Hobart for us. As we are looking to get another mortgage, we really need to be in commuting distance to work. It's a compromise! There's definitely cheaper areas. My son believes it's a great place for the apocalypse - most people say that about Tassie, which is why I got thinking about what it means to be the 'richest person' as the Freewriters prompted nudged. If the world comes to an end, a fancy house doesn't mean diddly squat, and nor will 1.2 million to buy it. But damn wouldn't we feel super rich to find our own little bit of paradise?